


Guilty Pleasures

by Ultirex



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Sex Tapes, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, minor Drift/Rodimus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultirex/pseuds/Ultirex
Summary: Rodimus comes up with a perfectly legitimate excuse to go through Megatron’s stuff.He isn’t sure whether he’s more traumatized or turned on by what he finds.





	Guilty Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Rereading Spoon888's Megastar fics inspired me to write TF fic again. Thus, I present to you Megastar filth.

“I’m pretty sure this is in violation of at least six different rules,” Drift said as he watched Rodimus punch the captain’s override code into the door of Megatron’s habsuite. 

He was supposed to be keeping watch, a fact that Rodimus would have pointedly reminded him of, were Rodimus not so occupied with his breaking and entering. But the corridor that housed the commanding officers’ quarters was quiet, save for their hushed conversation, and the stagnant air could easily lull someone less paranoid than Drift into a false sense of security.

“Only if we get caught,” was Rodimus’ flippant reply. He triumphantly fist-pumped the air when the access panel chimed and granted them entry, as if he’d hacked into and manipulated the system itself as opposed to using the privileges of his position for less-than-ethical reasons. “Which we won’t. Because if anyone can sit through Megatron’s poetry, it’s Magnus.”

“Yeah,” Drift agreed. He did cast a wary glance down the hallway before following Rodimus into the darkness of Megatron’s hab, half-expecting the former Enforcer to have materialized behind them at the slightest hint of mischief. “But don’t you feel even a _little_ bad about doing this?”

“You’re an accomplice,” Rodimus said as he felt along the wall for a light switch. “You don’t get to take the moral high ground on this one.”

Drift pinched the bridge of his nose. Rodimus had a point, given the fact that Drift had yet to make any real attempt at stopping him; and they both knew that a few half-hearted appeals to Rodimus’ conscience didn’t count. But his own culpability was something that he preferred not to dwell on, particularly when Rodimus was such an eager instigator. 

“I thought you and Megatron had finally started to come around to each other,” Drift said in a shameless pivot. “I can’t say I’d blame you if it’s the case, but do you still not trust him?”

“I do trust him,” Rodimus replied - petulantly, Drift would add. “Mostly. But that’s exactly why we’re doing this! It’s all about _building_ trust.”

Drift’s brow furrowed. Not even his so-called Rodimus Expertise could allow him to parse Rodimus’ reasoning behind that. “You lost me.”

“There’s no reason for us to have any secrets, right?” Rodimus attempted to rationalize, though Drift could only try and follow his reasoning with a blank stare. “We’re equals. True co-captains, or whatever. So he should have nothing to hide.”

The lights came on, illuminating what was, to Rodimus’ obvious dismay, a rather disappointing sight. 

Despite what the whisperings of the crew members would have a naive audience believe, Megatron’s habsuite was completely unremarkable to behold. There didn’t appear to be any literal or figurative skeletons in his closet; just the same standard that all the other habs on the ship were modeled after, but without any of the flair or flavor that the crew had brought to their living spaces. 

“This is…” Rodimus trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words as he took in the sight of the lone berth and desk, neither of which offered any sort of intrigue. 

“Anticlimactic?” Drift said, and he wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or disappointed that this little scheme of Rodimus’ had ended with a fizzle.

“No way.” Rodimus got down on the floor and peered beneath the berth, looking as desperate to find something incriminating as he sounded. “No way _Megatron_ of all people has nothing to hide.”

Drift remained near the doorway as he watched Rodimus search every nook and cranny of the room for something that would make this endeavor worthwhile. “I think we’re out of luck, Rodimus. Megatron isn’t the sort of person to just leave something personal out in the open like that. Even in his hab.”

There was a single datapad sitting on the desk. Rodimus only had to take a cursory glance at its contents before he let out a guttural groan and carelessly tossed it aside.

“Of course Megatron is the type of freak who would _annotate_ Magnus’ reports.”

Rodimus was starting to look crazed as he frantically rifled through the drawer in search of what, Drift didn’t really know, but he had a hunch it wasn’t there.

“There’s gotta be _something_ he-ellloo…”

Drift couldn’t keep the creeping feeling of dread from seeping into his voice as he dared to ask, “What?”

After a dramatic pause - naturally, because he was nothing if not a showman - Rodimus produced a datachit that seemed far too benign to be any cause for celebration. 

“Do you know what this is?” Rodimus asked; rhetorically, Drift presumed, because not even his time spent with the Decepticons had made him an expert on Megatron’s affairs.

“Old battle plans?” Drift suggested, though he supposed a pacifist would have no need to hang on to such things.

“There was a note with it,” Rodimus said. He handed Drift a piece of paper that was marred by an intricate series of creases and wrinkles, almost as if it had been continuously folded and unfolded and crinkled in a fit of indecisiveness that had apparently ended with a failure to let it go.

Drift peered down at the chicken scratch scrawled on it. The handwriting seemed familiar, and the contents of the note only further fueled his suspicions. “‘If you’ve ever feeling nostalgic.’ Huh. I can’t imagine what Starscream would want to leave with him.”

“_Starscream?_” Rodimus looked absolutely giddy at the revelation, and he practically somersaulted over to the console in his eagerness to get a glimpse at whatever Starscream had deemed so important to bestow upon Megatron as a parting gift - and what Megatron had, apparently, been reluctant to part with. “If it’s from that messy SOB you _know_ it’s gotta be good.”

Though Drift didn’t quite share Rodimus’ unabashed enthusiasm, his own curiosity won out over whatever sense of integrity he’d been pretending to still have. His optics were trained on the screen as Rodimus fiddled with the terminal. 

“I wonder why Megatron’s kept it this long?” he mused.

Rodimus sat crosslegged on Megatron’s berth and stared intently as a video file started to play. He seemed far more content to sit back and watch as opposed to theorizing, and after accepting the fact that they had already dug this hole as deep as it would go, Drift sat beside him.

“-thing even working…”

Drift sat up straighter at the sudden sound of Megatron’s voice playing over the sound system. It was accompanied by a shot of him fiddling with the camera, his scowl betraying his lack of experience with such equipment; or perhaps his lack of enthusiasm with whatever circumstances were surrounding this recording, though Drift assumed it was likely a mixture of the two.

“The hell?” Rodimus leaned forward, squinting his optics as he tried to make sense of what looked to be nothing more than a shot of Megatron’s chest. The same pattern of swirls that the armor sported now was there, but the Decepticon insignia present in the middle of it aged the video.

“Maybe it’s one of his old speeches, or something?” Drift suggested, though he did so with very little conviction.

His lack of faith was shown to be warranted when Megatron stepped back, allowing them to get their first real glimpse at the staging for… whatever this was. 

It was a berthroom, just as dull as the one they currently found themselves in. The only point of interest was the company that Megatron was keeping in his quarters, and Drift felt _something_ churn in the pit of his tank at the sight of Starscream lounging on Megatron’s berth.

Starscream was laying on his side, one hand propping up his head while the other was resting on the insulation sheets. One of his talons was restlessly wandering along the fabric, and Starscream’s impatience with Megatron’s dawdling was further evident in his thoroughly unamused expression.

“You’re stalling,” Starscream said. “Get over here.”

Megatron was off-camera, but the deep, commanding rumble of his voice made him sound as if he were in the room with them. “And you’re testing my patience. Watch your tone.”

Starscream rolled his optics, clearly content to do anything but that. His expression did soften once his gaze caught the camera, however, and he fluttered his wings in a manner that was alluring. 

“Quit preening,” Megatron snapped. He was back in frame and stood at the end of the berth. The camera was level with his pelvis, and-

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Rodimus said with what Drift could only describe as a look of dawning horror. He turned to Drift for a moment, as if he needed some confirmation that yes, this was really happening, before his attention was drawn back to the screen.

“I need to make sure I look good for the audience,” Starscream said as he sat up and positioned himself on the edge of the berth. His thighs parted and he reached out, welcoming Megatron into his embrace.

Megatron was quick to accept the offer. He leaned in, placing a hand on either side of Starscream’s hips, and allowed Starscream to mouth at the line of his jaw; but not without admonishing Starscream with a sigh. 

“You know this is for our use alone,” he said, and there was something dark and possessive in his expression and the way his grip tightened on the berth, as if he would personally kill anyone who dared to lay eyes on what they were about to create. 

“Mm.” Starscream grinned as he cupped Megatron’s face and continued to lavish him with kisses that were too light to be anything more than teasing. “My point still stands.”

“I’d heard the rumors,” Drift murmured as he found himself just as unable to look away from the screen as Rodimus was, “but I didn’t think it was real.”

“You _knew_ about this?” Rodimus asked in a scandalized whisper, like he feared that the Megatron on the tape would hear him and make good on that threat. 

Drift’s intake felt dry as he noticed just how _big_ Megatron was in comparison to Starscream, and how this moment of intimacy seemed to underscore that fact more than the petty squabbles and outright hostility between them ever did. 

“I thought that’s all it was! Just a dumb rumor,” was his admittedly lame excuse, because just about everyone in the Decepticon faction had been aware of whose quarters Starscream so frequently visited in the dead of night. 

But the thought of someone as conservative as Megatron actually going along with one of Starscream’s kinky fantasies was still outlandish enough for Drift to question what he was seeing, even as Megatron finally grew tired of Starscream’s games and claimed his lips with a growl.

Starscream was all too keen to accept the domineering kiss. He opened his mouth, allowing Megatron’s tongue to slip inside with a delighted noise. His hands roamed their way down Megatron’s chest, to the dip of his waist, briefly settling on his hips before boldly groping at his panel.

“This is a sex tape,” Radius said.

Drift swallowed. “Yeah. We probably shouldn’t watch this.”

Rodimus made no move to power down the console. “Yeah.”

Megatron made a low sound that could have been a warning when Starscream took his bottom lip between his teeth, but he did nothing to discourage the rougher treatment. If anything, it only seemed to spur on his own, and one of his hands moved to Starscream’s wing to pinch at the sensitive tip.

Starscream gasped, breaking away from the kiss as a mixture of pain and pleasure flitted across his face. But whatever retort he’d had was silenced as Megatron took his mouth once more.

There was the unmistakable click of a panel opening. Megatron’s spike began to pressurize, and Starscream was quick to wrap his fingers around the thickening shaft. 

It was mortifying to see their captain exposed in such a way, but that didn’t stop Rodimus from whistling at the sight. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” was all Drift could bring himself to say in response. He couldn’t pry his gaze away from the sight of Megatron’s spike in Starscream’s (certainly capable) hands, and how the biolights seemed to pulse in time with each stroke.

Megatron only stopped his assault on Starscream’s mouth when the sensation of Starscream’s touch became too overwhelming not to indulge in. Megatron buried his face in Starscream’s neck, panting with pleasure as Starscream caught a bead of prefluid and circled the tip with his thumb.

“Lay down,” Megatron said with all the authority that he used to command his soldiers. 

Starscream complied, but he didn’t have time to settle in and get comfortable before Megatron was dropping to his knees and dragging Starscream forward so that his legs were draped over his shoulders. 

“Oh…” Starscream gasped as Megatron began licking and sucking on the folds of his valve.

Drift wasn’t sure when Starscream had popped his panel. Or when his own had started to feel warm, for that matter.

Starscream’s hands fisted the sheets as Megatron ate him out with fervor. He turned his head so he was facing the camera, and Drift and Rodimus were treated to the sight of him in nothing short of rapture. Starscream’s lips were parted, occasionally shaping into what might have been a curse or a bit of praise, and his hooded optics were simmering with a heat that went straight to Drift’s core.

Rodimus shifted in his seat. Perhaps the feeling was mutual.

Megatron must have done something particularly clever with his tongue to make Starscream arch like that, but the firm grip he had on Starscream’s thighs prevented the Seeker from moving much. 

It was when Megatron flicked his tongue over Starscream’s node that that Starscream’s legs began to tremble in his grasp, and Megatron, in a moment of mercy, loosened his hold enough so that Starscream could grind his panel against his face.

Starscream’s wings quivered as he came down from his high. He looked thoroughly debauched, splayed out as he was, and he wasn’t given time to recover from his overload before Megatron was on top of him, hands and mouth equally ravenous as they searched for any part of Starscream’s frame that they could further defile.

“Fuck me already, you stupid old man,” Starscream said. His breaths were labored as his systems tried to regain a sense of equilibrium. 

Megatron bit down on one of Starscream’s neck cables, eliciting a wordless cry and effectively preventing the Seeker from issuing any more orders. 

Drift felt Rodimus’ hand brush against his thigh. He would have been embarrassed by the sound of his cooling fans powering on, were Rodimus’ not already humming a shameless tune of solidarity. 

Megatron was practically crushing Starscream against the berth as he ground their arrays together, but Starscream only trilled at being held down and completely vulnerable to Megatron’s whims. 

Drift wondered when exactly they had managed to cultivate such a sense of trust.

There was a sharp intake of air - from who, Drift wasn’t sure - but Megatron had begun to press in at a pace that belied his reckless abandon from earlier. He took Starscream with gentle, shallow rocking motions, easing his spike into a valve that never seemed quite big enough for him.

But they managed, just as they always did. Because despite the odds they always did fit together in a way that almost felt as if it were preordained, but neither was foolish enough to believe in a concept as abstract as fate.

It wasn’t long before Starscream’s legs ensnared Megatron’s hips and the Seeker whispered filthy words of encouragement in his audial. Megatron was all too happy to oblige, and his leisurely paced turned into a brutish one that had him snapping his hips with enough force to jostle the berth and Starscream beneath him.

In the times that Drift had dared to fantasize about what a tryst between his superior officers would look like - because who among the Decepticons _hadn’t_ \- this was much closer to what he had envisioned: a quick and dirty fuck between enemies who harbored as much lust for each other as they did murderous intent.

The two could only watch in silence as Starscream trembled in a second overload, and it wasn’t long before Megatron’s pace began to falter with the onset of his own. 

Megatron held himself deep as he overloaded, giving a last few lazy thrusts before going still. 

He didn’t pull out right away, nor did Starscream push him off as Drift had expected. The two stayed there, joined and quiet in the afterglow of it all until Starscream’s lips began searching for Megatron’s once more.

The kiss that Megatron and Starscream shared was far more intimate than anything else they had witnessed. It was only then that Drift was able to avert his gaze, guilt rearing its head through the haze of every other emotion that the video had inspired. 

Rodimus must have been feeling similarly. Megatron murmured something, but the sound and Starscream’s response were both lost on them as Rodimus finally shut off the console.

They didn’t speak as Rodimus quietly returned the datachit and accompanying note to where they’d been safely tucked away in Megatron’s desk, but there was an unspoken agreement in the look that they shared that neither of them would be spending the night alone.


End file.
